A California steamer had just arrived at its wharf, and the eager crowd came surging up the street along which Hinchley was slowly sauntering in a painful revery. He looked with idle curiosity from face to face of the motley throng, glad of any event which would for a moment take his thoughts from the mournful subject which had so long engrossed him.
Suddenly he beheld upon the other side of the way a face which brought him to an abrupt pause, while an exclamation, almost of terror, broke from his lips. After the first glance of uncertainty, the firm, severe look natural to his features passed over them.
The man who had disturbed him so walked by, unconscious of his scrutiny. The face was pale from sickness or confinement, the long beard had been shaven, the dress was altered, but through all the change Hinchley recognized him. That image was too closely connected with the most fearful era in his life ever to be forgotten.
After the first instant of horror and surprise, his active mind centered upon itself; the opportunity at least of identifying Sybil Chase with the woman he had seen was offered. What might follow he dared not think of--the hope was too great and joyous in the midst of so much suffering.
He turned and followed the man swiftly; came up to him in a narrow and almost deserted street and laid his hand upon his shoulder. The stranger started like an escaped prisoner who felt the grasp of his pursuers upon him; but when he saw Ralph Hinchley's face, he uttered a cry and endeavored to break away. But the young man held him fast, and a few rapid words reassured the fugitive so much that he walked quietly by his side and listened to him doubtfully, glancing around like a wild animal in fear of pursuit, and ready at the slightest sound to take flight.
"It is useless to deny what I say," was the conclusion of Hinchley's hasty address. "I mean you no harm. Only answer my questions, and you may go."
"Speak out then," returned the man, sullenly; "though I don't know why the deuce I should let a man I never saw before come up and question me in this way."
"You remember me, and did from the first," replied Hinchley, regarding him with keen decision. "Your eyes waver--you are pale, too. This is cowardly. Come, man, you need not be afraid; for any thing I shall do you are safe enough. What I want is the truth, and not even that about yourself."